


tested fate

by justlookaway (orphan_account)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Eye!Martin, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Sex, Web!Martin, dubcon because of the aforementioned manipulative seduction, seducing your monster boss as a way to get him under your thumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24156736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/justlookaway
Summary: Lonely men, Martin discovers, are easy to please.AKA if Martin Blackwood is going to save the world, he will probably need some way to keep a handle on Peter Lukas.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 12
Kudos: 144





	tested fate

Lonely men, Martin discovers, are easy to please. Particularly lonely men who choose to be lonely, who want it. 

It is remarkably simple to convince Peter that Martin wants to suck his cock, to let Martin be his. Martin after all, is similarly lonely, needs something that might resemble a connection. 

Peter is not a terribly smart man, and Martin knows he is pretty. He grins, looking smug, like he’s won something. And in a way, he has. 

Martin hides disinterest by masking it with forlorn sighs, a pretend plea for something, anything to fill up the want that fills his chest, an aching, cavernous thing. 

He lets Peter believe his dick is something to fill himself up with, a distraction that Martin  _ needs. _

The first time it happens, he can hardly contain his grin at how readily Peter dropped the flushed head of his cock onto Martin’s tongue. Martin was good at this, and he made all the right sorts of pretty, mewling noises and hollowed his cheeks and flicked the top of his tongue until Peter was spilling into his throat. He swallowed and watched as Peter followed a line of drool down Martin’s neck with pale eyes. Peter, fuckdrunk and hazy eyed, told Martin he was a good boy and wiped the wet away, before clearing his throat, zipping up his pants, and walking away. 

It continued from there, and Martin was more than happy to let Peter think he was desperate for this, let Peter think he was in charge. Martin learned all he could about Peter’s preferences. He liked to take his time, liked to savor the feeling of being close to someone. 

“Makes it all the more lonely when we have to leave,” he had said, biting softly onto the shell of Martin’s ear as Martin typed dutifully onto his laptop, intermittently making the appropriate whines as Peter rucked his shirt up more, flicking and massaging the nipples. 

Peter liked to feel like he was in command, liked the ability to tell Martin to sit under his desk and warm his cock and know that he would, without hesitation. Martin genuinely preferred those times, because Peter always made a show of not looking at Martin, and Martin didn’t have to pretend like it was his greatest pleasure to suck. Peter also liked to give gifts, to stake claim as it were. Martin’s wardrobe exploded in size with new shirts and ties and pants, each of which Peter was always sure to tell him how good they looked on him. Martin was less thrilled about the lingerie, but Peter liked it, so Martin put on a good show for him. Besides, he had to admit he looked good in the soft, baby blue. 

Peter was a lot gentler than Martin had originally expected and a great deal less kinky. He didn’t ask for Martin to do anything very far outside of his comfort level, and the most he would really do was a little degradation, occasionally calling Martin “whore” or “slut” when he was incredibly pent up and desperate to get Martin’s mouth on him. 

Martin leaned into this submissive, bratty character he found himself in. After a while, he started testing Peter’s limits, under the guise of being so desperate. If he could bend Peter into whatever shape he desired during sex, it would be easier to do so when concerning the fate of the world. 

His hands didn’t shake when they turned the doorknob to Peter’s office open, but if they had it would’ve been due to excitement, anticipation at the idea of controlling Peter just that much more. He was confident in his plan, but it wasn’t hard to seem meek as he stepped in. 

Peter was standing by the window, looking out. His long, dark coat seemed fuzzy around the edges, like any second he might just. Disappear. The office was colder than the hallway, fog piling up in the corners. 

Inwardly, Martin rolled his eyes. Peter liked to talk about how theatrical Beholders were, but the man clearly had a dramatic streak. 

Peter turned to face him, grinning not unkindly. 

“Did you like your presents?” he asked, extending a hand to Martin. Martin met him halfway, his much smaller fingers interlocking with Peter’s large, calloused ones. Peter pulled him in close, craning his neck and digging his nose into Martin’s ginger curly hairs. He inhaled deeply. 

“I did, thank you Peter,” Martin replied. Peter had taken the hand not gulfing his own and ran it down his side, skittering to a halt at Martin’s hip. “It made breakfast much more entertaining. Although it has made me more than a little,” he tightened his hold on Peter’s hand, shifted his hips the tiniest bit forward, “distracted.” Peter’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his waist and Martin could hear him suck in a breath and again suppressed an eye roll. It was genuinely too easy. 

Peter pulled away from him a bit, enough so that he could look down properly at Martin. Martin has made his peace with not being a tall man, but he couldn’t help but think the height difference wasn’t more than a little unfair. Still, he tried not to dwell on that, watching as Peter’s pupils dilated. 

“Isn’t that a lovely surprise.” His voice gone a little rough. “You always do know exactly how to rile up an old man don’t you?” 

Martin schooled his expression into something along the lines of flustered, muttering his assent. Already, he could feel Peter growing hard, his length all the more noticeable pressed as it was against his hip. 

Martin did not do this for his own enjoyment. He was not actively seeking out pleasure through Peter, but he could not deny the man was a good fuck. Besides, it warmed something in Martin’s chest, to know that Peter was under his control, wrapped up in Martin’s web. No matter what  _ he _ believed. 

Martin is dragged away from his thoughts as Peter leans down, releasing his hand to tip up his chin and then they are kissing. Peter’s beard is scratchy but his lips are soft and his tongue is warm and Martin lets himself lose his way as Peter kisses into him. Martin knows now, exactly how to scrape Peter’s bottom lip with his teeth to make him shiver, the perfect amount of give that has Peter moving his hands to grab Martin’s ass, and pull him even closer. 

Martin also knows that Peter loves it when he makes soft, high pitched noises. Ones that make Martin sound helpless, pitiful, so Peter can pull him impossibly closer and know that he’s  _ helping _ Martin. Martin knows that it makes Peter feel powerful, and he dives into it. 

They break apart, breaths heavy. Something has unspooled in Martin’s stomach, making his fingers twitch ever so slightly. Peter would probably be content just continuing to kiss, slightly heated until he decided whether or not to leave Martin in his “distracted” state or help him relieve himself. 

The choice is not his, but he doesn’t know that. Not really. To ensure that, Martin looks up at him through his long, pretty lashes, and bites his pink, pretty lip, and asks sweetly, so sweetly for Peter to stay, to help him. 

He Knows that Peter will not say no, that his web is wrapped too tightly around his head. 

Peter leads him to Elias’s old desk and sits down on the wide, comfortable chair. Martin climbs on top of him, knows that Peter loves the way he melts into his lap, like he was made for it. Like it’s where he belongs. 

Martin presses himself close and lets Peter kiss his way around his jaw, his neck. Martin whines, whimpers. Arches his back, which shifts his crotch closer to Peter’s. Peter breathes out sharply through his nose. 

“Off, boy,” Peter orders, and Martin cocks an eyebrow, mouth slightly open, and he knows he looks needy and confused. Peter takes a moment, clearly moved by the expression. Then he clears his throat, says “I’ve decided to come inside you, the way you are clearly so greedy for.” 

Martin ducks his head like he’s embarrassed, and is rewarded by an amused, if strained, huff from the man under him. Still he does what he is asked, intentionally rocking forward before shuffling down. Then he is standing, and looking down at Peter, whose eyes have glassed over a bit. Martin is just a bit appreciative of the tent in Peter’s trousers, delighting in the knowledge that Peter is practically puddy in his hands.

Martin begins to pull at the buttons on his shirt, more than aware of Peter’s hard gaze on his nimble fingers. The shirt is quickly gone, but Martin takes his time in undoing his belt, unclasping it in a slow way that he knows Peter will like. He enjoys when Martin puts on a show, and he intends to do just that. 

Eventually the belt is gone, and Martin undos the button on his trousers. He pulls them down, and Peter sits up, just the tiniest bit. 

His voice is strained when he says “I’m glad to see you’re enjoying my gifts.” 

Martin’s trousers have hit the floor when he pulls his hands up, straightening himself. He slides a finger in between the elastic of the lace boxers, and is barely able to contain his smugness at the way Peter’s breath catches when it snaps back against his hip. Martin feels like humming, to revel in this trap he has made. He’s a pretty sight, he knows, all soft pale curves and faded freckles dusting his skin. The pink lace only just hides the reddish curls that lay underneath. 

Meeting Peter’s gaze, he finds himself flushing unintentionally. Peter looks  _ reverent _ , like he’s been given the greatest gift he could ask for and doesn’t want to wait a second longer just  _ staring  _ at it. He stays still, waiting for Peter to tell him what to do. 

Peter grins, and Martin knows that it’s because he has decided that he will have his cake and eat it joyfully too. “Up on the desk,” he says, sweetly, hungrily. Martin dutifully perches himself up, waits for Peter to make his next move. Martin Knows he is going to shift forward, pulling the chair closer. Martin Knows that Peter is thinking about a multitude of filthy things that they could do in this position. But then Peter is leaning even closer, snagging the elastic of his boxers between his teeth and pulling down and then Peter is so, so close. Martin has to move his hips up a bit so that Peter can tug the back of the boxers down as well. Peter is breathing heavily, his eyes only barely focused as tugs the lace down. Martin is breathing heavily too, he realizes as Peter finishes stripping him and he sits back down on the cool wood of the desk. He is wet, and his cock, swollen and jutting out from under his hood, aches. He can See every thought that runs through Peter’s head, he can feel the tug of spider silk wrapped around every one of his thoughts. Peter would give him anything, if Martin asked. Peter was so sure that Martin was his, and his alone that the idea of Martin using him had never even crossed his fogged up mind. 

Martin smiles down at Peter, his face the epitome of submissive and willing. Peter does not want to leave his place from between Martin’s thighs, but he had made a promise, and he would not break that. 

Martin had trained him very, very well. 

Shakily, Peter sits back in his seat, taking a moment to nip at the sensitive skin along Martin’s inner thigh. His fingers deftly unbutton his trousers, pull his heavy, straining cock from pants. Precome beads at the tip, and it looks inviting, like it had been made for Martin to entertain himself with. 

He schools his features into something desperate, whines in a way he knows in the back of his mind is not completely faked. He all but  _ slides _ off of the desk, and then all at once Peter pulls him onto his lap. Martin secures himself, straddling Peter and making those mewls that make Peter’s look of hunger intensify. Peter’s hands are on Martin’s ass, large and grabbing. They are what propel him forward, onto and then into Peter’s mouth with honeyed little moans. But Martin does not need Peter’s tongue in his mouth, not in the way that Peter needs his cock inside of Martin. So the kiss is short, but still heated and wet in a way that would make Martin shudder pleasantly if he was anyone else. 

Martin lifts himself up, Peter’s hands running up and down his thighs. Peter’s cock stands tall and large, the tip flushed as much as Martin thinks possible, the veins standing starkly out. Martin lines himself up with ease, and his hands do not shake. Peter has begun to murmur things to him, things that sound like  _ good boy  _ and  _ so pretty split on my cock _ . 

Then Martin lowers himself down, and Peter loses his capacity to speak. 

Peter’s cock is large, proportional to the man and then some. It fills Martin up immediately, stretching him deliciously. Peter is trembling beneath him, fingers digging into the meat of his ass. Those fingers should be cold. They were once, until Martin tugged his strings and Peter simply stopped. A silly thing to think about, as Martin drops down farther and farther into Peter’s lap. But the reminder of Martin’s total control has him giving in a bit, clenching and unclenching around Peter so that the man below him is quite obviously restraining from just thrusting up, taking what he wants. 

He does however, shift his hips the tiniest amount, and Martin gasps at movement. He decides to drop down fully, and his and Peter’s moans at the rush of hot, spiky pleasure synchronize in the air. Then Martin picks himself up and comes down again, and again, and again, until Peter is a mess beneath him. He might look handsome like this, if Martin cared, but Martin is far too wrapped up in Seeing and Knowing everything in this moment. His strings are growing taught, and Martin for a moment is aware that this is exactly where he is supposed to be. Not in Peter’s lap, but in someone's head. Seeing the way they would do anything for him and not even realize it until it was too late. It was intoxicating. 

Then Peter shifts his hips again and hits that spot in Martin that does make him cry out. Waves of pleasure roll throughout his body, hot leaving him moaning. Peter fills him so well, and he does it several times over before Martin is acutely aware that Peter is about to come. Martin rolls his hips, throws his head over Peter’s shoulder, and Looks into his head to see what he needs. 

Peter’s main string of thoughts are a combination of  _ hot, wet, tight _ , and  _ fuck _ , but then Martin Sees something that makes his stomach flip in pleasure. 

“Yes,” he keens, right next to Peter’s ear. Peter’s thrusts have gone erratic, his grip on Martin growing painful, and Martin Knows he’s close- 

“Yes,  _ Daddy,” _ he whines, and there is a second of perfect stillness before Peter groans, louder than Martin’s heard him before, and then he’s coming and Martin feels it burying itself inside of him. “Yes, Daddy,” he says again, not letting Peter go. Peter’s breath have gone stuttering, and he pants, more than spent but unable to hear anything that isn’t-

“Martin,” he grunts. Martin continues to move around his now softening cock, as if he can’t tell anything beyond his own Peter-induced pleasure. That thought makes Peter’s thigh twitch, and Martin is glad his face his hidden and he doesn’t have to pretend not to roll his eyes. “Martin,” he says again. 

Martin leans back, and the movement seems to snap something in Peter, who is overstimulated to a wild degree. Martin doesn’t even have to Look to know that. 

Martin’s face is flushed, he knows. His mouth hangs open and a line of drool hangs down from his bottom lip. Martin stutters his breathing, leans forward and says “Daddy, please.” 

Peter’s eyes widen then, and he chokes a tiny bit. Martin whines, walls still moving from where they rest around Peter’s cock, which is spent but has decided to twitch valiantly. 

“Daddy,” he says, revels in the way Peter’s hand spasms. “I have been such a good boy, please, please, please let me come.” Peter’s expression shutters. 

Hastily, but carefully, Martin is lifted up, back onto the desk. He cannot deny that the sound of him separating from Peter is not the least bit satisfying, and he knows Peter loves it. Loves it enough to kneel before Martin, in the spot where he knows the smell of him is heady, mixed with Peter’s cum. Still, Peter draws his mouth onto Martin’s cock and  _ sucks _ and Martin spams into it. This time, calling him “Daddy” is less intentional, but it’s not like he knows that. Peter continues his assault until Martin is shaking, crying, and  _ squirting _ all over him. Martin feels his climax wash over him properly, resting his head against the wood of the desk. Peter leans over him now, kissing the soft skin of his stomach and thighs until Martin can sit back up. 

Martin is naked, and Peter still mostly clothed. When Peter embraces him, that point of distance feels important. Peter draws his chin up, looking down at Martin with half closed eyes. 

“That was,” he clears his throat, and then he’s grinning lazily. “Intense.” 

Martin smiles back up at him, knows how pretty he is from the angle. Then he widens his eyes, looking intentionally sheepish. “I- I shouldn’t have said that- we hadn’t ever talk about it before and I-“

He’s cut off by Peter, who presses a small kiss down to his lips. 

“No, no, I-“ It’s Peter’s turn to look flustered, although his is entirely out of his control. “I liked it.” He looks back to Martin, gaze heavy. “I  _ loved _ it. You, clenched around my cock, riding me as I filled you up  _ perfectly _ . And then calling me. That.” He’s pulled himself closer, until Martin is perfectly flush against him. “I would be lying if I said it wasn’t an immensely enjoyable experience.” 

Martin begins that kiss, tugs Peter down by his collar. It’s a little sloppy, and heated, and Peter groans under his lips. His beard is sticky, Martin’s cum already drying. Martin wants to grind against him, to have Peter shiver pleasantly above him, to let Peter fuck into him again and again. 

Because right then, looking into Peter’s mind, he saw confusion, of all things. Peter was wondering how he had found his perfect, lonely half. How he had managed to go all these years without Martin, how satisfying it would be to leave him and then to come back, to relish in Martin’s loneliness. To have Martin, all to himself. 

Martin sighs up into his mouth, an “I love you” they both know is empty. It feeds straight into the dark pit of Peter’s loneliness, and he knows he will do whatever it takes to make Martin say it in truth, to have it hurt all that much more. 

Martin smiles into the kiss. His Eye and his Web make him quiver contentedly. After all, he’s won. And Peter won’t know for a long, long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i’m thinking about turning this into a series, maybe some peter pov or martinelias


End file.
